


Remembers Shackles

by deathwailart



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dubious Consent, Female Character of Color, Gen, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, Non-Graphic Violence, Poetry, Slavery, Woman King
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 01:33:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>remembers shackles<br/>and hands so strong</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembers Shackles

remembers shackles tight around  
wrist and ankle, soul and throat  
eyes downcast lest master raise his hand  
wanting her meek  
cringing, mild  
'this savage beauty, o exotic goddess, tamed by my hand'  
he mocks  
compares her to polished stones or stained woods  
says she complements him so well  
makes her sick  
filled with rage enough to set the world alight  
all too well knowing the sting of the lash  
if master sees bared teeth and not trembling eyelash  
  
breaking both body and spirit to shape her  
to his desire  
pretty songbird in a cage  
singing praise to swell his ego  
and suffering when flesh swells too  
rancid breath, pawing hands  
thrusting  
thinks of knives, of gleaming blades  
silver turned red  
her thrusting into his soft belly  
blood spilling like wine he bids her pour for his guests  
  
one day after careful planning  
spanning so many months  
terror, sick from fear of discovery  
but not of death, sweet release though it might be  
she will know it as a woman freed  
seizing chance, they burst forth  
spill from the city with iron ringing  
trailing from their bodies  
many are content to run seeking far off lands  
not her who remembers another her  
beloved daughter  
torn from mother's breast  
  
they rally beneath her ragged banner  
slaves and others trampled, oppressed  
her shackles broken but kept close  
they march to seize a city  
armed with weapons taken from their captors  
with blood upon her hands and feet and cheeks  
she finds the man who suits her shackles better  
wraps them tight around his throat  
pulls hard with every  
ounce of strength  
outrage fills his eyes  
his slave, his whore, his lost prize  
above him now  
roles reversed  
but it is fleeting and as pale flesh  
reddens  
bruises  
beneath the links that bound her  
he grows afraid, sweating, gurgling  
he is strong but she pressses  
knuckles aching, arms shaking  
  
when it is done the links remain  
embedded in her palms, her fingers  
across the backs of her hands  
years later she will feel the but  
around her neck and wrists and ankles  
only phantom echoes  
whispers  
she is free at last  
  
made leader of those she freed  
the chains she melts except for those  
that wrapped around master's throat  
those she fashions around a crown  
not queen of the free  
but woman king  
an army to give pause to foolish men  
who seek to conquer  
  
peace reigns, hands that killed  
can heal and sow  
still she remembers  
flexes fingers with a strength she had not known  
smiles and watches her people grow  
unshackled  
wild and free  
land prospers and in time legend spreads  
even old and grey upon her bed  
she clutches tight to all her daughters  
to pass it on  
  
remembers shackles  
and hands so strong  
but spirit stronger  
than any flesh could know

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure this counts as poetry and I haven't written poetry since school (a very long time ago in school) but I was out in the car today and this happened.


End file.
